Second story of my Toontown triology. Cute little piece of fluff based on a picture in a Toontown newsletter.

***************

"Deck the halls with bows of holly!" Weird Curly Megaquack sang into the crisp Christmas-Eve air.

"Fa-la-la-la-la-la!" her best friend Little Lefty Bumbercrunch joined in.

Curly placed a carrot nose on the snowman she and Lefty had just completed and grinned proudly. "There! The best snowman in all of Toontown!"

"You betcha," Lefty agreed.

Suddenly, Curly's Toonaphone rang. Snatching it up, she answered, "Hello, this is Weird Curly Megaquack."

"Hey, Curly, it's Miss Snuffy Whiskerbubble."

Curly smiled at the sound of her friend's voice. "What's up, Snuffy?"

"Well, I was going to do a DA office - since I need, like, a million Jury Notices - but there are no Cogs in here!" Snuffy's voice went high with confusion at the end of her sentence.

Curly felt her eyebrows shoot up. "That's really strange," she said - brilliantly.

"I know," Snuffy replied. "This one friend of mine told me she went in a Back Nine - AND a mint - and there were no Cogs there either!"

Curly fiddled with one floppy ear as her thoughts spun. "That is truly bizarre," she said eventually. "Maybe we finally got rid of them all."

Snuffy giggled at the other end of the phone. "I doubt it," she replied. "Anyway, I'm going to go find a Lawbot building. See you!"

"Bye," Curly said, hanging up the phone. Lefty was watching, mouth gaping.

"We gotta check the streets," Lefty said. The two Toons raced down Walrus Way, snow crunching under their feet. Ordinarily high-level Bossbots liked to hang out on this street, but today, there wasn't so much as a single Flunky.

Sleet Street didn't turn up anything either, and Polar Place's lone building was completely uninhabited. All Curly and Lefty had to do was enter, ride the elevator up to the fifth floor, and BOOM it was converted back into a Toon building. Cool, but strange.

Curly's heart was pounding hard by this time. It wasn't like the Cogs not to have at least some of them patrolling the streets. They must have all been planning something huge - and horrible -

"I've got an idea." Lefty interrupted Curly's panic. "Let's try Sellbot HQ. If no one's in any of the others, or on the streets, then, logically, they must all be there."

Curly nodded. "Good idea." Secretly she was relieved. Sellbot was by far the easiest of the HQs to deal with.

Curly threw down her black hole marked "Daisy Gardens," grabbed Lefty's paw, and jumped into it. They popped up right by the gag shop.

"Gags might be handy," Lefty said rather obviously. Curly nodded once again and opened the door.

Clerk Peaches cheerfully handed them gags in exchange for their jellybeans and listened to their story. She shook her little brown head. "That is odd," she agreed. "Come to think of it, I haven't seen any Cogs in the last few hours myself - even on my breaks."

"Well, hopefully we can get to the bottom of this," Curly said with more confidence than she felt. "Come on, Lefty."

The two Toons marched out of the gag shop and on toward Oak Street.

********************

Bossbot HQ was a dark, haunted-looking mansion with shriveled, blackened trees. Whenever Curly stepped into it, she felt as if something evil was hanging in the air that made her want to get out as soon as possible.

Lawbot HQ had shiny marble floors that reflected everything. If the Spin Doctors and Backstabbers hadn't been patrolling the area, Curly would have danced the Toon Victory dance simply to watch her floor-reflection mimic her. At least in this HQ things were mostly tan, which was an improvement over gray, black, and more gray - though the gigantic statue of the Chief Justice always made her want to hurl.

Cashbot HQ was also mostly gray, its monotony broken by traffic lights and the sleek shiny forms of trains whistling off to who-knows-where - and by the huge golden double doors leading into the CFO's personal lobby.

Sellbot HQ was nearly completely gray, but Curly realized for the first time how run-down it was. The smell of exhaust hung heavily in the air, and several puddles of oil lay scattered around the courtyard. In the middle of it all was an unnatural-looking pit, and Curly shuddered at what might have caused such a thing. All the pipes were rusted and creaky.

"What...a...dump!" Curly hissed loudly to Lefty. There were no Cogs patrolling the area, so she felt safe doing it.

Lefty nodded absently, her green eyes darting from the multiple doors that led to the VP's lobby to the entrance to the factory.

"OK, here's the plan," Curly said. "You go into the factory and see if there are any Cogs there. If there are, don't engage them - just come back and meet me here."

Lefty gave her the thumbs-up sign. "Right," she said. "And if there aren't?"

"Come back here and we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Lefty took off as fast as her little blue legs could carry her. Curly positioned herself in the pit and began flipping through her Shickter book to see if she could find any answers.

None.

******

"I ran the whole thing," Lefty reported, panting. "Not one single Cog. Not even a Foreman. Heck, there were only half the number of normal Goons."

Curly smashed her head against the side of the pit in frustration. "What is their deal?" she whisper-screeched. "Are they trying to drive us crazy?" She knew that it was a distinct possibility.

Suddenly, she heard a sound she knew well. Voices. Hollow, robotic voices coming from beyond the lobby doors. Curly felt a smile curve her lips. "Bingo," she said.

*******

Even Curly had no words for the sight that met the Toons' eyes as they sneaked, unnoticed, into the room where the VP always promoted his Sellbots. Because the sight that met their eyes was a Christmas party.

The cage above the launchpad was empty - no kidnapped Toons to rescue tonight, thank goodness. Twinkling lights were strung from it, and from every other availible surface, including the VP himself. His desk was littered with important-looking papers, and a cracked nameplate rested on top of them.

The Cogs themselves were the biggest surprise, though. Sellbots and Cashbots and Lawbots and Bossbots. All of them were in the same room - having fun.

They were all sipping eggnog, and a Downsizer was flying in with more even as Curly and Lefty watched in astonishment. A Mingler was chattering away to a poor little Cold Caller, who was about to enter Sleep Mode.

A Number Cruncher was busily stuffing numbers into his mouth, while a Penny Pincher watched warily. A Glad Hander pranced around in a Santa hat, his cheesy toothpaste-ad smile even wider than usual, it seemed.

A Bean Counter had somehow gotten hung up in the lights, while an Ambulance Chaser attempted to get him down by using his Quake attack. Curly and Lefty made sure to jump whenever he did, not wanting to lose Laff points on a spy mission.

A nervous-looking Flunky hovered in midair, also in a Santa hat. A Big Cheese, one who the CEO would consider one of the "elite" and therefore not worthy of being in the same room with smaller Cogs or Sellbots in general, was organizing a game of golf for anyone interested. Even one of those little Goons was wandering obliviously about with reindeer antlers attached to its helmet.

But Lefty's and Curly's eyes were drawn to the VP himself, sitting in the middle of the room. He, too, wore a Santa hat, and a too-big Santa beard was hanging from his face. A fire was burning in his undercarriage - didn't that hurt? Curly wondered, even as she blushed. He was wrapped up in Christmas lights, but he didn't seem to mind a bit. And on top of his head, perched precariously between the light bulbs, was a tree-topping Christmas star.

Just as Curly turned to leave, a Two-Face walked up to the VP and presented him with a gift-wrapped box about the size of a Flunky. Curly's jaw about fell off her face as the VP smiled kindly - kindly? - and patted the way-smaller Cog on the head.

Curly couldn't move. Luckily, Lefty could. She raised a trembling finger and pressed the "Down" button.

Just before the elevator doors sealed shut, Curly saw something she hadn't noticed before. Hanging from the VP's undercarriage was a large purple stocking. A stocking, for heaven's sake!

And as the elevator descended back into the lobby, Curly felt something break inside of her.

****************

Later on, back at her estate, a conversation from last week came back to Curly.

"I really think it would be a good idea to try to compromise with the cogs," she had said. "Let them sell their things, print their money, hold their trials, play their golf - just leave Toons out of it. They just stay in their Headquarters. They don't bother us, and we don't bother them."

Toon Council eyes stared at her, as if trying to decide whether she was trying to be funny or if she was just insane. "I think it sounds like a good idea," Mayor Flippy said, mercifully. "But you know the Cogs will never agree to it."

"You couldn't even talk to them, anyway," Professor Pete added. "They're only robots. They can't understand you."

Curly had felt the gleam in her eyes as she delivered the catch. "Four of them can listen. I request permission to take a call for peace to the Cog Bosses."

Toon Council jaws fell, sure that she was insane now. Flippy had called a huddle, and Curly had sat there, nibbling at her lip and shooting up prayers.

"Here's the deal," Shep Ahoy said finally. "You can take the call to one Boss and one Boss only. Then we'll see about their response."

Curly had nodded gratefully, her heart pounding. Her idea was going to become a reality!

And then she remembered how she had called Lefty right afterwards to tell her the news - and ask her an important question. "So, which Boss should I take the proposal to?"

There was a long silence on Lefty's end of the phone. "No offense, Curly," she said softly, "but that's the dumbest question you have ever asked."

Yeah. She knew that.

So she had planned to go to the VP after Christmas break - she was going to go to Duckburg for Christmas - but now - everything was different now.

And she knew what she had to do.

*******

"Where to?" P.J. asked over the front seat of the taxi.

"Duckburg, please," Curly replied, fastening her seat belt. "I have to do some...uh...last minute Christmas shopping."

P.J. nodded and stepped on the gas. "Who for?" he asked.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Curly replied.

***********

The nameplates sold at the Duckburg Mall were the most beautiful Curly had ever seen. They were made of smooth stone that was cool to the touch, and Curly always loved to run her fingers inside the carved letters, tracing the pattern of each different letter.

But today, there was no time for that. She knew what she had come here for, and she was only looking for it.

Curly scanned the shelves. Product Manager - no. President - no. CEO - yick, no way! Secretary - definitely not.

Ah-hah!

Curly swooped down like an eagle - make that a Legal Eagle - and snatched up the nameplate that read Senior Vice President of Sales. All those words barely fit, but it was still very professional-looking and snazzy. Much better than the broken-in-half, pathetic thing that was currently sitting on his desk.

Curly carried the nameplate up to the counter. A tired-looking cashier glanced up at her. "May I help you?" she inquired. She sounded like she wished Curly would just leave so she could go home and celebrate Christmas with her family.

Curly cleared her throat. "Yes. I would like to buy this."

The cashier nodded and rung up the purchase. "That will be twenty dollars."

Yee-ikes. Curly had gotten so used to jellybeans that she had almost completely forgotten about money. In a sudden burst of inspiration, she reached into her gag bag and pulled two of her ten-dollar lure bills off their fishing poles and thrust them onto the counter.

The cashier handed her the nameplate in a sack. "Merry Christmas," she said.

"Thanks, same to you!" Curly called back. She threw the hole marked "Home" down and teleported back to her estate.

*******

"You're crazy, Weird Curly Megaquack. Absolutely one-hundred-percent-crazy."

Curly sighed and shifted the phone to her other floppy ear. "Look, Lefty," she said, "what's the worst that could happen?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

"No, never mind." Curly sighed loudly. "Look, I need to get off to wrap it, so I'll see you later."

"Hopefully." There was a loud click, and then a dial tone.

Curly opened the front door to her house, and her Doodle, Wagtail, wandered in, shaking the snow off her chubby lavender body. Curly flung her arms around her. "Do you think I'm crazy, too?" she whispered.

Wagtail wiggled in close to her and slurped her face with her soft little pink tongue. Curly giggled. "I guess not."

Feeling encouraged, she fed Wagtail a jellybean and slid her carton of wrapping paper out from under her bed. She placed the nameplate into a cardboard box, and then reached for her favorite wrapping paper - the bright red stuff with the glittery purple stars.

Curly stopped herself just in time. Semi-decent or not, a Cog was a Cog. Giving them a gift wrapped in that would be a quick way to be tossed out on her ear.

Well, what am I supposed to do? It's not like they make gray wrapping paper! Even if they did, Curly was sure she couldn't bear to use it.

She rummaged through the box of wrapping paper, finally settling on a rich, dark red. A nice compromise, and the color of Sellbot suits. How could it miss?

Slowly, she wrapped the present. Fire flickered in the fireplace next to her bed, and Wagtail lay cozily at her feet. It was a perfect Christmas Eve.

Curly hoped it could be perfect for everyone.

********

"I still say you're crazy," Lefty said. They were back in the pit again, Curly's package tucked safely into her gag bag. Alone.

When Curly announced that, though, Lefty shook her head. "Going in with no gags," she said mournfully. "You're even crazier than I thought."

"I can't say I come in peace if I come in fully stocked with weapons," Curly retorted, pulling her scrawny Telemarketer suit on over her Christmas outfit.

"They aren't weapons." Lefty rolled her eyes.

"To him they are."

In the thinking-silence that followed, Curly ran a hand over Lefty's head. "Wish me luck," she said.

"I don't wish you luck! I wish you sense!" Lefty screeched in her best Boris-the-Russian-goose-from-Balto voice.

The two Toons giggled, and Curly walked stiff-leggedly off. She couldn't imagine how awful it would be to have to walk that way all the time.

And then she boldly set foot into what hopefully wouldn't be enemy territory for much longer.

******

Ding. The elevator doors slid shut.

Curly never would have admitted to anyone - except maybe Lefty - but she was scared. Scared so hard she would have been shaking had her narrow suit allowed it.

When those same doors slid open again, though, Curly felt her fear turn into something else she couldn't quite name. The VP was hunched over his desk, glumly signing papers, all traces of Christmas lights removed. For a moment she thought she'd dreamed it.

As the elevator doors dinged open, his gaze went straight to her, and his eyes seemed to soften. "Sorry, little one," he said, scribbling onto yet another paper without even looking at it. "Promotions are over for the day. Come back day after tomorrow."

Curly held back an exasperated sigh. Clueless as ever. "Is the party over?" she asked in her best robotic voice - which wasn't very good, but, of course, the VP didn't really seem to notice.

Now those eyes looked sad. "Yes, I'm sorry you missed it. The - other bosses called."

"What did they say?" Curly demanded.

"Oh, the usual. The CFO called wanting his cogs back, and the Chief Justice called to say that tomorrow is a federal holiday so we can't work and the CEO called to demand what kind of a pathetic cog am I to throw a Christmas party anyway and some of my gears will have to be replaced because they melted." Curly noticed scorch marks on his undercarriage and tried not to shake her head. So building a fire in there hadn't been the best idea.

The VP blinked at her. "Why did I just tell you all that?"

Curly shrugged as best as she could, bringing the Telemarketer's skinny shoulders up to her ears.

"So, why did you come here, my young Telemarketer?" The VP rolled forward, winced, and then rolled backward, eyes squinched shut. Curly did shake her head this time. That undercarriage would probably take a while to heal. "Are you having a business crisis? Would you like to step into my office and discuss it?" he continued.

Curly took a deep breath and prepared for the inevitable. "I don't know," she said, no longer attempting to sound Cog-like. "There's something you should know first."

And with that, she took her Cog suit off, one piece at a time until she was standing there, a foot shorter and with much more breathing room horizontally. The VP spun his head around six or seven times, trying to find the correct face to express such a shock. When he finally settled on one side, his expression was one of panic.

"You're a Toon!" he cried.

Figured that out all by yourself, did ya? It was a small, mean thought, and Curly pushed it aside. "Yes indeed," she said. "A Toon that comes in peace."

Both were silent for a moment, assessing the situation. Neither one had an army to back them up. She had no gags. He was too weak to jump. There really was no way to fight - physically, at least. At last, the VP spoke.

"Hey - you're that Toon who - who - who -"

"Spit it out," Curly said. She could feel her mouth twitching at the corners. This was kind of fun.

"Who saved the CFO."

"Aww, shucks." Curly ducked her head and pretended to be embarrassed. "It was those Skelecogs who fixed him."

"Yes, but you brought them there." The VP held one finger up in the air in a way that Curly figured was supposed to be impressive. It wasn't.

"You know about that?"

"Everybody knows about that. Even me."

Curly caught that last part, and winced. Ouch.

"Anyway," he continued, "why did you do something like that?"

"Because," Curly replied, straightening her shoulders. It was strange, but, even though she still only came up to the tops of his treads, she didn't feel so tiny anymore. As a matter of fact, it was starting to seem like he was the small one. "I would hate to see someone who can think and have emotions and feel pain be lost forever. It's like a person."

That was good for another blank stare. "I don't think any other Toon would have done that," the VP finally mumbled. "I suppose I should thank you."

"Is he your friend?" she asked.

Blink. "He is my business associate."

Curly groaned. "I KNOW that. I asked, is he your friend?"

The VP tilted his head, and Curly realized with a pang that the star was still placed on top of it. Matter of fact, the stocking was still hanging, and she made out two large stitched letters on it - a V and a P. "I do not understand. What is a 'friend'?"

Hoh-boy. It would have been easier if he had asked her to explain long division. How could anyone not know what a friend was?

"A friend," Curly began slowly, "is someone you hang around with - not because you have to, but because you want to. You enjoy their company."

"'Enjoy'?" The VP looked as if the sewer had backed up under his nose.

"Yeah, you know, enjoy." Curly felt a sudden flash of inspiration come to her. "Like you enjoy promoting your Sellbots."

The VP's eyes actually held a trace of recognition. "Yes, I suppose I enjoy that."

"Or like you enjoyed your Christmas party tonight."

"I beg your pardon!" The angry face was back, clenched teeth and all.

Oops. She was treading on thin ice here. "No offense, sir," Curly said quickly, "but I saw you tonight - not just enjoying yourself, but out-and-out having fun. It's a new feeling for you, isn't it?"

The huge head nodded.

"That's what we Toons are basically fighting for - that feeling. It's that feeling you're trying to take away from us, and it's that feeling we're trying to keep. Do you understand why we want to keep it?"

Another nod, slower this time.

"Then would you be willing to let us? It doesn't have to be something huge at first. Maybe just stop kidnapping our shopkeepers and taking over our buildings - please?"

The VP's angry face had wilted into something sadder. "If the other Bosses found out - if the CEO heard about this - he hates me already -"

Curly could feel her eyes snapping angrily, or maybe even - yikes - protectively. "The CEO," she said with spunk, "is a total snob."

"He says I'm stupid."

"He's a liar. And he's not that smart himself. He doesn't even figure out we're Toons until nearly all of his guests are blown up. You figured it out before any of your Cogs did." Curly took a loud mad-breath at the end of her rant.

Those eyes actually drooped at the corners and took Curly's heart with them. "It hurts to lose them, doesn't it?" she asked gently.

In response, the VP snatched up a picture frame from his desk and shoved it into her face. A Mr. Hollywood's very-white, very-big, very-everything teeth reflected the camera's flash and shone right into her eyes.

"You see him?" he practically shrieked. "213-1, my best worker. I'd worked with him personally since he was just a Cold Caller right off the assembly line. I was so proud of him. Not an hour ago, I received the news he exploded."

Curly's hand flew to her mouth as if it had a mind of its own. "Oh no," she mumbled through her gloved fingers. "I'm so sorry."

"You are not," he retorted childishly, placing the picture back on his desk. "You Toons are never sorry."

"Well, I am." Curly stomped her foot to get his attention. "That's why the idea of a truce is the best way to go." She searched his face, looking for some sign that he understood what she was getting at. Nothing but cross-eyed confusion.

"Because," she added, "if you stop trying to take over our town and kidnap our citizens, we'll leave you alone. I promise I will never blow up another Sellbot if you do that."

The VP stared at his metal hands, clenching and unclenching his fists as if he'd never seen them before. "You promise?"

"I promise. Cross my heart and - stuff." Curly thought it best not to complete that phrase around someone so literal-minded.

"I don't."

"Beg your pardon?"

"I don't promise," the VP repeated. "But I will think about it. Now, is there anything else you wanted to say?"

Curly took one last deep breath. "Actually, yes."

"What is it?"

Curly reached into her gag bag and pulled out the maroon-wrapped package. In the reverent silence that followed, she stood on tiptoes, leaned forward, and slipped it into the stocking.

She met his eyes and smiled a genuine smile. "Merry Christmas, sir."

And she walked back into the elevator.

Just before the elevator doors closed, Curly saw him hungrily tear into the thing like a giant child and then stare at the nameplate for a long moment.

The last thing she saw before the doors slid shut was the happy face spinning around to the front, the smile bigger than any Mr. Hollywood's.

**************

December 31st, 11:50 P.M.

"Woo-hoo!" Weird Curly Megaquack yelled into the crisp night air of Donald's Dreamland. "The fireworks have started!"

Little Lefty Bumbercrunch giggled and swatted at the banner hanging over the entrance to the Playground which read "Happy New Year!" "Come on back, Curly," she said.

Curly reluctantly dragged her eyes away from the dazzling display overhead and rejoined the meeting in front of the gag shop. Flippy, Detective Lima, Shep Ahoy, and Professor Flake were all in attendance. ACE was waddling around, answering questions from excited little Toons about how it felt to be the first good Flunky ever. He had originally thought he was going to serve snacks, but Curly had refused, saying she promised he would never have to be a waiter to his "superiors" ever again.

"Weekly reports on Cog HQs," Lefty said, scribbling furiously on a piece of paper.

"The CEO is demanding security cameras be placed in every inch of Bossbot HQ," Shep Ahoy remarked. "He says the stress of battling Toons is hurting his golf game."

"Poor baby," Curly snorted.

"The Chief Justice has started posting Speed Limit signs all over Toontown," Professor Flake added. "Any Toon that gets caught breaking the limit has to pay an extremely large fine. Unfortunately, the limits are about one mile per day, and the signs are two inches tall."

Lefty glanced at Curly and did the cookoo sign. Curly giggled. "Cashbot?" Lefty asked.

"The CFO has demanded that Version 2.0 Cogs be manufactured for the Cashbots as well," Flippy said. "He says it's expensive to have to keep making new ones."

No one had any words for that.

"And Sellbot?" Lefty inquired.

Detective Lima grunted. "You know, it's the funniest thing," she said. "I sent a team in there today, and there was no one to rescue. It's been that way all week."

"Do you think..." Lefty didn't seem to be able to finish her sentence.

"I don't know," Curly said slowly. "I doubt I single-handedly changed his mind, but I probably made him reconsider his whole way of life. That takes a lot of thinking, you know."

"It's 11:59!" ACE squeaked from behind them.

As the countdown began, Curly couldn't help feeling optimistic. Sure, the Cogs were still pests, and still no one knew where Scrooge was, not to mention this mysterious "Chairman" was sure to be trouble.

But there were her friends, her family, the way she was growing as a Toon - not just laff and gags, but life. And the idea that maybe there would only be three types of Cogs to fight from now on. And Gyro's new idea would certainly come in handy for that.

"It's midnight! Time for a toast!" The members of the Toon Council held up their glasses of milk.

Lefty nudged Curly in the ribs. "You do the honors, Curly."

Curly climbed on top of the table and raised her glass. "A toast!" she cried.

"A toast!" everyone repeated.

"To a brighter future!" Curly straightened her shoulders. "For us......and for them."

Random note: "I don't wish you luck, I wish you sense!" is a line from the animated movie Balto.